


Hitting It Off

by siluria



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria/pseuds/siluria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the latest round of the <a href="http://intoabar.livejournal.com/">intoabar</a> challenge.</p><p>Ezra Standish walks into a bar and meets Danny Williams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitting It Off

Ezra absently turned the glass in slow circles on the wood, the melting ice leaving trails of condensation in its wake. From his seat at the bar he could take his time assessing his opponents, testing his skills as he categorized each of the people assembled in the bar before the start of the Joint-Working course the following day. Most people were collected in groups. Laughter, both forced and seemingly genuine, carried over the low volume of the music floating from the bar's speakers.

There was nothing Ezra despised more than multi-agency get-togethers. He'd done his upmost to avoid attending all that came up, his luck having lasted much longer than most due to timely cases, (un)fortunate injury, fortuitous wagers and trading favors. Alas, after the rather spectacular outcome of the last conference that Chris had attended in Ezra's stead after a wager made and lost on the result of the Stanley Cup, Ezra was doomed to attend this charade.

His teammates seemed particularly intimidated by Chris' wrath (for once in their traitorous lives) to accept any of Ezra's wagers. There were some things Ezra would be willing to demean himself in order to avoid, alas his best efforts in that field were also thwarted. That was until the destination of the course was announced. Still, Ezra figured if he _had_ to attend one of these infernal gatherings, there were worst places to suffer than in Honolulu. So despite Buck's sudden turnaround (Chris' ire seemingly no longer of consequence) and the scale of what he was offering (to which Ezra had been sorely tempted), he decided to cut his losses and go (almost) willingly. It wouldn't do to look too eager, after all, and it would at least keep him away from any more inter-agency meetings for a while.

So, while attendance at the pre-course social was mandatory, that didn't mean Ezra was inclined to mingle. Nursing his scotch allowed him to observe, identify who to avoid, and who the potential allies were. He immediately struck off anyone who had opted to wear the name badge that came with the welcome packs. Those were the type of people who wanted to make a name for themselves, or assumed that they already had and were there to announce themselves. Next was mentally tagging anyone he considered to be FBI. History may have been pushed to one side, but that didn't mean those prior discretions were forgiven or forgotten. Ezra could hold a grudge with the best of them.

By the time Ezra had finished his drink he'd classified almost everyone in the bar. He'd dismissed those that seemed eager to impress, those that clung to the attention of others, those that appeared to have never stepped a foot outside of their air-conditioned offices. It was those that carried scars that he was looking for. Physical scars weren't just in the faded jagged lines, but in the favoring of one limb over its pair, the calluses from weapons, and the awareness people had for their surroundings. Then there were the emotional scars, not nearly as visible, but the signs were there if you made your living off being able to read people. Ezra's livelihood, as well as his life and those of others, demanded that he be able to read those signs.

"This seat taken?"

Ezra suppressed his instinctual reaction to the sudden intrusion and turned his attention away from the room at large to focus on the man that had appeared next to him. He was dressed relatively casually, the hideously colored tie was loosened enough to allow the top two buttons of the striped shirt to be opened. The man was about Ezra's height, and as he himself had experienced, was probably misjudged for that. Just like himself, the man had weight and muscle across broad shoulders and arms that spoke of raw power.

"Not at all, feel free to help yourself," Ezra replied, waving a hand towards the seat. 

The man smiled and nodded as he climbed into the seat,. "Refill?" he asked, pointing at the empty glass Ezra was still toying with.

"Scotch, thank you," he said as he pushed the glass towards the bartender that had wandered over as his companion sat down.

Ezra waited until the order had been filled and the bartender had turned to his next customer before speaking. "Ezra Standish," he introduced, holding out his hand.

"Danny Williams." Danny's grip was strong in the fleeting handshake, and Ezra wondered if perhaps he'd found his ally for the week's activities. "I take it you pulled the short straw to end up here?"

Ezra smirked. "Let's just say I'd exhausted all my avoidance tactics previously, and my boss wasn't inclined to listen to reason."

"Nice to see you're not someone who willingly signs up for this waste of time. I have the grand misfortune of having the world's biggest troublemaker as a boss, but for some godforsaken reason _I_ end up here in punishment while he gets to go all Rambo in the jungle. I'm the last person on the team that needs to attend this teamwork crap, yet I'm the one here to take notes. As if they ever listen to my words of wisdom."

Ezra listened to the tirade with a wry smile as he watched Danny become more animated. He had one hand poised to rescue the bottle of beer should Danny's hands catch it mid flail. "I'm afraid that I seem to have been handed the title of troublemaker on my team, so perhaps this is my penance,” Ezra said, when Danny and calmed down enough and reached for his beer. "Although I feel it is rather harsh considering."

Danny was quiet for a few moments as sipped his beer. "Georgia?" he asked finally.

Ezra nodded. "Formerly. I'm now Denver based. New Jersey?"

"Also formally," Danny replied, and Ezra could sense Danny's melancholy at that point. "I now have the misfortune to be stuck in this pineapple-infested hellhole."

Ezra stalled his immediate response. Hawaii was the ideal paradise for most, but Ezra could see the issues that would be raised with the amount of tourists, the logistics of several islands, the amount of coastline to oversee, not to mention the ever present heat. For a city dweller, the sudden change in environment would be difficult to adapt to. However, he got the impression that while Danny being here wasn't entirely his choice, he'd found reasons to stay.

"I could see how it would have its downsides," Ezra finally said. Danny looked shocked for a moment before he smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "Although, I could be persuaded to rough it," Ezra added.

"Yeah," Danny snorted. "You can rough it, might have to with what it costs to rent round here."

Ezra tipped his glass in acknowledgment, before sipping at the scotch. 

"So," Danny said, drawing out the vowel. "You're not PD. I'm thinking Fed, but while the suit is very sharp - I approve, I must say - I'm not getting FBI vibes because I would have expected you to be with your kind rather than shunning them by sitting in a corner."

Ezra forced himself to resist smoothing a hand down his tie in what would likely be seen as preening, and raised an eyebrow instead. "Technically, I'm shunning everyone by seating myself in the corner."

Danny shrugged. "You are, but you're assessing. You've been watching the room for a while, skimming over the desk jockeys, avoiding the prima donnas, lingering over the more battle worn. I figured you were splitting off those you'd consider working with, and you've bypassed everyone who flags to me as FBI."

Ezra kept his face blank despite his surprise at someone not only noticing him, but seeing what he was doing and correctly identifying the people he was assessing.

"I only ask," Danny said, turning his gaze away to his bottle of beer, "because I've been doing the same thing and I figure we could compare notes, maybe see about putting together a team that could come out on top at the exam at the end of the week." Danny turned his gaze back to Ezra. "Just because I hate being here, doesn't mean I'm willing to let someone kick my ass."

He stayed quiet as he looked at Danny Williams, going through his mental checklist. It was easy to see the man's strength, the intelligence had been revealed along with his observational skills, and the scars were there to see. To use Danny's own phrase, he was one of the battle worn, but Ezra wasn't ready to take that and lay all his cards at Danny's feet just yet.

Ezra painted on a veneer every day. Some days it was whatever identity he was going undercover with, other days it was simply the mask of Ezra Standish that he used to make people underestimate him. That Danny had seen beyond the expensive suits and his air of over-confidence was perhaps a little troubling, but he was more inclined to believe it was telling of the man sat beside him.

He was distracted from his thoughts by one of the attendees weaving his way rather drunkenly through the room, jostling people who didn’t get out of his way in time. The man stumbled up to the bar next to Danny, the wooden bar top all that was saving the drunk from face-planting into the ground. His lack of coordination had him sliding into Danny.

Danny grabbed his beer bottle when it toppled. “Hey, hey, hey!”

The man leaned backwards, his drunkenness taking him a few steps away before his balance tipped him forward again. “Sorry man, not used to the heat I guess.”

“Or the liquor,” Danny replied, and Ezra watched Danny cautiously push the man away slightly.

“Wow, that is an ugly tie,” the man said, reaching out a hand towards the faux-silk around Danny’s neck.

Ezra sat still waiting to see how Danny would react, and watched with interest at the speed at which Danny’s hand grabbed the wrist of drunk to halt the movement.

“My daughter bought me this tie, and you will not get your grubby hands anywhere near it. Are we clear?”

Two men approached their group, their sobriety being much above that of Ezra and Danny’s unfortunate company. Ezra identified them as people he’d seen congregated together who he’d marked as federal agents. “Is there a problem?” one of them asked.

“There won’t be,” Danny said, his eyes never leaving the drunk as he slowly pushed the man’s hand away and let go of his wrist. “Not if you take your friend here away and sober him up a little.”

“I just wanted a look at your tie,” the drunk grumbled, although this time Ezra noticed the man managed to retain enough wisdom to keep his hands to himself.

“In normal civilization it’s polite to ask first,” Danny said, his expressive hands demonstrating just how unhappy he was. “In a room full of law enforcement officers, whose natural state is twitchy, then reaching out is not a good idea if you want to stay in one piece.”

Ezra followed the movements of one of the men as he coaxed the drunk away from the bar and hopefully back to his room where he would likely make an attempt to sober up in time for the start of the course. The other man, however, didn’t move other than to reach out a hand to grab Danny’s biceps to twist him around on his stool.

The speed at which Danny reacted shouldn’t have been a surprise considering how he’d snagged the wrist of the drunk moments before. Still, Ezra was impressed by how Danny came out of his seat and had the other man bent double, his wayward hand pulled far up his back, before the agent had uttered the first word of whatever speech he had planned.

“Touching isn’t a good idea either,” Danny warned. He let go and pushed the other man away, turning his back as he got back on his stool.

Danny might not have been watching his back, but Ezra was. He followed the agent as he smoothed down the arms of his suit jacket, the expression crossing the man’s face was enough to inform Ezra that he wasn’t letting the slight go uncontested. As the man pulled his arm back to strike, Ezra slipped from his stool. Deflecting the intended punch, he then threw out one of his own. The man fell to the floor, an angry red mark beginning to form on his cheek.

“I do believe the gentleman gave you sufficient warning,” Ezra drawled. “Striking a fellow lawman when his back is turned is not conducive to fostering successful inter-agency partnerships.”

Ezra watched the agent grind his teeth as he picked himself up off the floor of the now quiet bar, and while he didn’t say anything verbally, the glare he cast sent a strong enough message of hate and likely payback. Ezra stayed stood until the man had exited the bar and was out of sight. He picked up his scotch before he settled back onto his stool, his attention switching to Danny.

Danny slammed his beer bottle back on the bar and shook his head before turning to Ezra. “Seeing as we’ve pissed people off and the course hasn’t even started, how about we watch each other’s backs this week?”

"Perhaps that would be a fortuitous arrangement," Ezra said, the adrenaline ebbing away. "Allow me to more formally introduce myself; Agent Ezra Standish, ATF, and formerly FBI. Specializing in undercover and tactics."

Danny smiled widely. "Detective Danny Williams, Hawaii Five-0. Formerly New Jersey PD and kidnapped from HPD. Specialize in trying to keep up with my kidnapping boss who masquerades as a Rambo impersonator, and attempting to keep him on the correct side of the law. Which is an unforgiving task, let me tell you!"

"I can imagine." Ezra took a deep breath. "Well, I may bend the rules on occasion, but I'm not generally inclined towards singlehandedly taking on enemy strongholds. It is perhaps only fair that I inform you that my boss may disagree with that statement."

Danny waved a hand dismissively. "Oh what the hell, I'm used to it, I'm sure you can't be as bad as Steve. And besides, you had my back when you don't know me and I appreciate that."

Ezra glanced back at the room looking for any reactions to what had just happened, both positive and negative, mentally cataloguing those people that appeared to be siding with their opponents. Given Danny's reaction to the confrontation, and his capability when it came to defending himself, Ezra was willing to risk it. "Detective Williams," Ezra said, holding out his hand, "it's a pleasure to be working with you."

Danny grinned and shook his hand before slapping him in the back. Perhaps this week wasn't going to be the disaster Ezra was expecting.

***

"So brah, tell me what you think."

Ezra eyed the tray of shrimp in front of him with some trepidation, not entirely convinced he could identify all the ingredients laid out before him.

"Trust me," Danny said, "this is one of Kamekona's better inventions. It’s the ones with Spam you have to watch out for."

"Hey, haole, just because you have yet to appreciate the culinary masterpiece that is our national dish doesn’t mean you get to diss my genius."

Ezra smiled at the interaction between the two men. He'd learned over the week spent with Danny that the detective loved to argue and had a vocabulary as colorful as his New Jersey origins would demand, yet he also had a quick mind that could allow him to talk his way into and out of trouble, depending on his mood. And if it was a bad mood then Danny wasn’t afraid to throw the first punch, as had been the case when their trouble from the first night looked for vengeance. Seeing Danny interact with someone like Kamekona just emphasized Ezra's initial instinct that Danny had found reasons to stay in this supposed'pineapple infested hellhole'.

Ezra reached for the plastic fork and speared one of the shrimp, taking a moment to smell it before he finally decided to take the plunge. He definitely had to compliment Kamekona on not producing bland food, as a riot of spices and seasoning erupted on his tongue. It was a mix of southern and eastern tastes, something that surprisingly worked. As he swallowed he realized that the discussion had silenced, with both men now looking for his reaction. "It's good," he conceded.

Kamekona turned to Danny and beamed. "See, brah!"

"Yes, yes. Look, you have customers waiting, go, shoo," Danny muttered, waving the big man away. "Believe me, some of the dishes that man comes up with are entirely inedible, makes me wonder how he stays in business. But then he is one of our best sources so I don't think I want to know how he makes his money," Danny shrugged.

Ezra grinned and tucked back into his shrimp. He hated to admit it, and would definitely not do so in his teammate's presence, but he had enjoyed his week. Danny had proven to be just as capable as Ezra had suspected, and they had kept the trouble to a minimum. His sarcasm and humor had been a perfect match for Ezra's own, and despite initial awkwardness, Ezra may have become accustomed to Danny's rather touchy-feely personality.

They'd stuck to themselves as soon as it was announced that the test at the end of the week would require them to pair up, neither man being that inclined to waste any further effort on socializing, not when they had already been reprimanded for the incident in the bar. So while the content of the lectures and presentations had been eminently boring, Danny's company had been less so. Ezra had tagged along to Danny's office, meeting two of the detective's team - the now infamous 'Steve' still being elusive - and had spent some time socializing with the three of them. It seemed that Danny had found a team that suited him as well as Ezra's own did.

Ezra finished his food, and was wiping his mouth on his napkin just as Danny's expression brightened at whoever he'd spotted over Ezra's shoulder.

"Finally!" Danny exclaimed.

Ezra turned and watched as a black truck pulled into the parking lot beside Danny's Camaro. The man that got out was tall, athletic, and clearly of military background. Brightly colored tattoo's peaked out from under the sleeves of a black tee, and pale cargo pants were splattered with the dark rusty mud that blanketed the islands. Ezra figured this must be the infamous Steve McGarrett, Danny's self-proclaimed pain in the ass.

The wide grins the two sported, when they came together in a loud back-slapping embrace, clearly spoke of a closeness that neither likely acknowledged to the other in as many words. Ezra saw two battle worn people that clearly kept each other from being worn down.

"Steve, I'd like you to meet the person that has managed to keep me safe and sane this week, for which I haven't forgiven you and for which there will be repercussions."

"But Danno, you know I couldn't get out of the S&R."

"Zip it, I don't want to hear it. Steve McGarrett, Navy Seal and professional pain in my ass, meet Ezra Standish, ATF, and a fellow trouble-magnet. I'm sure you'll have plenty of notes to compare."

He stood from the bench and held his hand out to shake Steve's. The grip was warm and enveloping.

"Thanks for looking after Danno this week." Steve's tone was all seriousness, a genuine gratitude held in the simple words.

Ezra ignored Danny's splutter and smiled. "My pleasure, although I should be saying thank you to him for his hospitality."

Danny waved his thanks off. "Believe me, you made a hellish week bearable."

"Danny tells me you beat the previous high scores for the course," Steve said, his pride clearly evident, and Ezra watched Danny's chest puff out a little before a wary look crossed his features.

"You doubted me?" Danny pouted.

"Not at all," Steve said, his attention turning completely away from Ezra and to Danny, "although I did doubt you'd find someone who'd put up with you for a week; you can be quite high maintenance."

"High maintenance?! I'll have you know Mr No Social Skills," Danny said jabbing a finger in Steve's chest, "that I am very personable and quite capable of making acquaintances that can be let out in society without supervision."

Ezra smirked at the easy banter, the two men reminding him of Buck and JD when the two got going. In the interaction though, Ezra could see how Steve got away with whatever 'Rambo Shit' Danny accused him of, Danny's exasperation clearly amusing Steve rather than riling him. Danny definitely had his hands full, and yet Ezra didn't think the detective minded in the slightest. 

"Are they always like this?" Ezra asked Kamekona when the big man came to stand beside him, the pair of them watching the back and forth between the two men.

"Always brah, you just gotta let them flow."

Ezra laughed. Perhaps the next time his name came up for a multi-agency meeting he'd see if Danny was due a break. Maybe he could time it for one in Denver and return Danny's hospitality. He'd definitely like to see how Chris dealt with a talkative Danny in full swing.


End file.
